It’s scary I tell you, when I turn around and look…
Back
To the days when I just couldn’t wait to read that book
I’d plan my day so that I'd have several hours of page-turning time… with no interruptions in between
Nowadays I find myself turning fewer pages, but lazily clicking away as I read off a computer screen
I’m afraid I will lose the reading culture I’d built... for this is not the same
I go through a few pages, then switch to an online pool game
It’s a habit I’m beginning to abhor
Something I never would have dared to do before
I would read the crap out of a book in a day… or two at most, before
Always hungry for a story, like a ****** with a craving looking to score
I was a book worm… now I just don’t know
What I am anymore
I grab a good paperback and dive into the story
An hour later my eyes feel heavy, I begin to feel a little weary
The Sandman’s close by and I am beginning to worry
‘Will I even get to finish this chapter?’
I begin to rush through the page in a hurry
But by now I’m reading shallow… and the story is so deep
Still, I need to know what happens to the protagonist next… before I fall into this deep sleep
I can feel it lurking around the corner
**** Sandman!...
Around the corner
Then I turn to my machine… that wretched thing
And see the window I left open on the screen
And decide to squeeze in…
A short story I had been reading earlier, before I ‘shut eye’
Knowing full well that if I force myself past chapter four my brain surely shall die
But, forty five minutes later… well, what do you know? The computer has done it again…
It has kept me awake and reading, way past chapter ten.

A little girl found a deck of cards
On her daddy's poker table.

She always knew how to make a home
Out of a gambler.

Her hands were steady as they were small
She built a tower, stories tall.
When daddy returned, it never fell.
The boys bet his chips around it.

We built this family with a house of cards
Steady hands and racing hearts.
We built this family with a house of cards.
Queen of hearts, two of cups.

Daddys a fool, played his part
Just half a step into the dark
When A little girl found a deck of cards
Sitting on her mommys altar.

Her hands were steady as they were small
She watched her house of cards grow.
When mommy returned to Tarot.
The cards had found themselves
a different owner.

We built this family with a house of cards
A good read, a bad hand.
We built this family with a house of cards.
The fool, The queen of hearts

The dealer busts, we grow old
A little girl can build a home.
With nothin' but two decks of cards
Shuffled all together

All the beautiful women in the world
all the actresses
dancers             
models
and
letter turners

all the princesses
pop stars’ wives
***** queens
and
fashion icons

melt like candles
lit at the altar in prayer

become liquid and slowly drip  
their beauty away
to gather in a clear pool at my feet.

All the beautiful women in the world
aren’t
anymore

when I look you.

i write what i see, i encode images with sounds...
hence my simple life,
and the complications of speaking as noted
and the complicated life around me as unsaid.

so fragile - poetry so ably juggling
paedophilia and an identity -
i could almost leave a snarl and a gimmicky
phlegm in it ~ ᛞᚨᚻᚨᚱᚷᚨ'ᚻ... ᚢᚾ!
the Arab wishes his were Rune.

i own a cat unafraid of a thunderstorm, that's enough
for a C.V. where i come from -
but where this writing comes from it's unlike
thus stated -
it's probably a thoroughly read *lord of the rings
rather than an unread book readied for
cinematography - because that's were books end up,
in a pile of wished-up "page-turners" of charity shops
turned into blockbusters of Hollywood
for a timescale of kept blisters;
or nothing at all, and best kept admired like
cheesy pop songs you'd play at your wedding disco
to imagine yourself being undressed
and hence dancing on stilts via woman
and in stilettos via man.

Everyone is on the wrong side of history

                                  eventually....

     You and all your voices

                                                            are no different.

                 Consensus is no more truth than

                  a glut of elephants constitutes

                            a good circus.

If I must, I will be

                      Elijah

                                   regardless what a hundred screaming

                                   culture-turners have to say.

3 boats
3 boats, sail up OUR river. 
We ignite some gunpowder
Everyone turns up to cheer.
Lights and people spark up as one
They sail away
The event is done.
Proud we are, of floating bits of steel
Even tho one is usually a cafe
In America
, for the turners of the wheel.
So wave ur flags, and toast the rich 
Whose table you'll never share.
And believe the lie,
It's all for us
Just don't try to get in there. 
Cos we're the ones who build
The dreams the small percentage live
Our table maybe bare, but our friendship's full.
It's the brotherhood we alone can give.,
Float on float on. 
See you soon.

i can verily appreciate my initial frustration
barely a day ago,
       or at least a day a nibble of today's
contentment at:
    (a) drinking beer on a very sour,
wet atypically english afternoon -
      reigned over by who else if not
earl grey... and...
   (b) autumnal cuisine, planning dinner,
roasted vegetables,
       parsnip, peppers, courgettes,
onions, potatoes, carrots, mushrooms,
glazed in oil balsamic vinegar and some honey...
hell, when they said: 5 a day -
a nurse told me: it's good that
   1. you don't run on pavement and instead
allow 5 miles become deserving of
your tread - longshanks -
and 2. the 5 a day implies veg, not fruit...
younger? sure, fruits, but as i got older
it was the timidity of vegetables -
their sweetness, but also lack of
acidity -
             no **** sherlock -
          a combination of fruit acidity and
sugar is probably just as bad as chocolate...
  hence my championing of winter...
sure, in the spring it might be warmer outside,
but during autumn it's much warmer
inside...
              due to the food...
          but i can only see with lucidy
my initial frustration, as to why only a day
or so ago (with a nibble of today) came
the realisation... frustration at a lack of
the usual writing impetus...
      i had to (on purpose) force myself to
solve two súdokū puzzles -
  having failed both of them...
     but it was never about solving these puzzles...
what was actually happening was nothing
short of a transition period...
    unlike your typical bestseller page turners,
i was stuck with a book for at least... god...
       almost half a year?
                that's the problem when you give
too much thought to a book,
  well, a "problem" -
                              but deep-reading does that
to you, in that you have to burn off
any memory of what you spent investing
all that time in...
  and how better than by puzzling number games?
it's the mere focus on numbers,
an overly strained focus on them,
an exhaustion due to focusing on them
that can only allow you to detach your from
the book you've just finished,
        and the next book you picked up...
   after all, the books can't be more parallel -
notably since one predates the others
  (1670 - 1931) - with the latter citing no
influence of the former...
       let's face it, having just finished a nationalist
socialist philosopher's musings...
  and then picking up benedict spinoza's work?
that's almost like having read stephen king,
and then picking up hans christian andersen...
obviously it had to take drastic measures,
sheer mental exhaustion having concentrated
on numbers, and then a sleepless night
watching movies to bury one book
  in my library, to subsequently take a new one
out... unlike binge reading on twilight trilogy
(e.g.).
                  besides, i managed to re-watch
good will hunting...
                                     and it struck me:
     there's that scene were a father busting his
*** on a construction site for his son's education...
hmm...
                 and how good education this
and good education that...
                          zdrowie na budowie -
health in construction -
         couldn't agree more -
          plus an art form / trade being perfected
to absolute efficiency -
                 if only i was born a bit later,
at the time when tuition fees went up to
   9 grand per annum for a degree at university,
if only! even when they started hovering
above 3 grand i dropped out from doing
a second degree...
                      busting his *** my **** -
   my university cost my father one week's
worth of wages, back when it was just over a grand...
but that's the reality,
     trades pay good, esp. industrial scale roofing,
a hard graft, but i have to say: fun to do -
it puts going to the gym out of the equation,
for sure...
              and roofers? i know that i'll never
manage to visit the maldives... 'e did...
         mexico and kenya and jamaica and...
      i've got a degree in chemistry and the best
offer of work outside of university was:
   stacking shelves in a supermarket.
                     plus, i've taught myself more
than i was taught in these institutions...
                     and i really recommend this:
stop your formal education in language at
the age of 16... after 16? teach yourself...
                         i took the foundation in history
from 16 through to 20...
              a canvas of essay writing...
   butch-ed-up writing history essays...
    i wouldn't trust anyone to teach me this
language after 16...
                          that said,
we really were sold a lie about the mantra
of education education education...
       frightfully, if not merely thankfully
the lie was cheap, cheap cheap cheap,
  thankfully it was cheap at the time -
otherwise the majority of us would have
probably left school at 16 and learned a trade...
point being...
     in poland it's clear cut...
         because you have polytechnics -
  and i'll tell you how they look like:
    schools for boys, hardly any girls...
                  let's say: no girls...
        and then there are the schools with
*****-whipping material guys who study
  the arts, languages, literature etc. etc. -
       if only england had established firm roots
in polytechnics - almost all men would have
defaulted - and so much rests on how things
are worded -
                      they call it apprenticeships...
  as if you have to be a victorian slave labour
of a child...
                       forced into work straight at 16?
how about a few more years in a polytechnic?
so you can at least learn more theories and ideas,
create a technical base, before you enter
an apprenticeship at, say, 18 or 19?
                     is the ******* house burning down
that you have to be forced into a technical trade
at 16?
              no! it's not fair on the guys who have
aren't given the luxury of those 2 to 3 years
of joking in the playground, playing footie &
all that...
                    if a polytechnic network of schools,
we'd know that at least a plumber would
come out the other end,
   rather than upon leaving university -
a chemist becomes a supermarket cashier...
why? it's a choking joke that these university
lecturers are doctor in their field and what they
really want to do is to focus on their research...
  understandably...
  which is why all university lectures should
be conducted by post-graduates...
   seems simple enough...
   post-graduate students and professors -
  those old geezers who are almost retired and
have the same capacity for wisdom as
  a grandfather has to a grandson,
  which a father will never have to his son.

The wood turners dog is called

sap

He's to big to sit one ones

lap

He runs around trees

And barks at his fleas

But when he stops it is usually to

crap.

From pollution to anorexia,
from deforestation to bulimia,
we are destroying ourselves;
we are the author of our own darkness.
As the author, we can change it,
but we don't.
We created it.

And we keep living (or not)
waiting for someone
to turn on the lights for us;
then we can see
the mess that we made

But nobody notices,
we are the light turners.

head turners embedded deep mind
harvested and deployed
'Dear Consumer'